nt love. The chorus intervenes with a
reflective number ("What thinks she now?"), which is very dramatic in
style, describing the mutual longing of the lovers to be together.

The second scene opens with a short solo by the Page ("Up, up, O King,
the Horses wait"), followed by the chorus as narrator, describing the
ride of the King and his companion through the greenwood, with which is
interwoven Trojan's solo ("How sweet and cool is yet the Night"). In the
next number, a vivacious allegro, the story of the ride is continued by
the chorus, with a characteristic accompaniment, and again Trojan sings a
charming tribute to the summer night, which is followed by responsive
solos of the King and the Page, in the allegro and penseroso style,--the
one singing of the raptures of night, the other of the gladness of day
and sunlight. A passionate bit of recitative ("Now swift, ye Horses") by
Trojan reveals the secret of the King's haste. He is King of the night,
and the morning ray will be fatal to him. A short choral number ("And
forward fly they") brings the first part to a close with the arrival of
the riders at the Queen's castle.

The second part opens with a beautiful solo, quartet, and chorus
("Good-Night, the Lindens whisper"), which describes the meeting of the
lovers, while

"Beneath the lofty castle gate
Slumbers the page who so long must wait.
Then crows the cock, the hour is late."

At this note of warning the Page appeals to his master to fly, for the
sunlight will bring him pain and harm. The dallying King replies, "Hark!
how the Nightingale yet sings." A small chorus intervenes with the
warning, "Love is so fleeting, Night is so fair." The Queen appeals to
him, "What seest thou, O King?" To which Trojan replies with agitation,
"The ruddy Morning, it is my Death." Again comes the Page's warning. The
King springs up in alarm and hastens to his steed. In a choral presto
movement the ride back is described. The King conceals himself in a dark
thicket, hoping to escape, but the night has vanished and the day has
begun. Its beams penetrate his refuge, and with a last despairing cry
("Accursed Light, I feel thee now") he expires. A short choral passage,
with harp accompaniment, brings this very dramatic and fanciful
composition to a close:--

"And from his horse the king now falls,
He was but king of the night;
The sunlight sparkles, the sunlight shines,
But death comes with morning light."